stale soap bubble
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Dropped some confetti in the ashtray. Castiel/Kentin slash. Crap format, crap everything. Crap.


**Author's Note: I was bound to do this eventually. On an irrelevant note, I love Ken's mom. Like I seriously love Ken's mom. Have you seen her? She is the cutest thing ever. I want her. I want her right now. I would give all my AP to get a date with Ken's mom. But anyway, uh...Well, you know, the usual. This is just another recycled piece of bland, plotless, useless, mediocre, worthless crap. And suddenly my candy and Manga!Candy exist in le same universe. Dunno why o3o**

**Rating is for pervyness, underage drinking, and drug usage. And cursing, but cursing is a given with me pretty much, really. So beware of pervyness! Beware of underage drinking! Beware of drugs! **

**Also irrelevantly, I've been thinking about bailing here and migrating to AO3, as AO3 is more lenient with ratings and content and whatnot, and though I think I'm careful, I'm never sure. But then AO3 is exclusive to people who actually write quality fanfics, so I wouldn't fit in. Guess Imma just be stuck here e3e**

* * *

Kentin was not afraid of Castiel. At all.

...

Okay, so he was.

If asked why, he (wouldn't admit it) didn't exactly have an answer. The guy just kind of had that intimidating posture, the pulsing 'keep away' aura. It unnerved him. Worse still, Castiel knew it unnerved him. And once the people who freaked you out knew they freaked you out, they took advantage of it. Kentin had tons of experience with that, and he didn't want to get any more.

So he avoided him, plain and simple.

It's not like they ever talked anyway.

They spoke exactly one time prior to Ken going to military school, and it hadn't really been a conversation. Ken was just staring after Lynn, dreamy-eyed and drooling in the middle of the hallway and Castiel had muttered a coarse, impatient "move it or lose it, shrimp."

They hadn't talked since then.

Kentin still kept his distance. He didn't have any reason not to.

_ო_

"What are you doing here?"

Here was a party at Laeti's place. She'd invited Lynn and told Lynn to invite everybody (male) else from school, Kentin included only because she wanted to apologize for her rudeness during their less than pleasurable reintroduction. She probably only wanted to apologize to stay on Lynn's good side, but it was just as well, Kentin tagged along for the exact same reason.

And maybe also possibly to show off a little bit to the other students from their old school. He was proud of himself, after all, those people used to bag on his appearance and he'd improved it drastically since then. Now they could choke on it.

"You deaf, army boy?"

Kentin blinked, realizing with some incredulity and unease that Castiel was talking to him. "Um...What?"

Castiel smirked and pointedly took another hit from the joint in his grasp. "This isn't your kind of thing, army boy. You should go home."

Kentin gaped mutely. He flared internally, vexed, but he wasn't about to test Castiel. In fact, he would have turned around and walked away right then if he could have thought of a sufficient excuse. But he couldn't.

"Of course it's my thing," Ken muttered instead, glancing to where a group of people sat in the middle of Laeti's carpet, giggling lopsidedly as they played Spin the Bottle with a bottle of vodka. Jeez, whoever came up with that game was super uncreative when it came to titles.

Castiel snickered, charcoal gaze flashing as he held the joint out. "You want a hit?"

"No." Kentin vehemently shook his head. He didn't smoke weed, even if he did, he wouldn't have to here. Everybody was smoking some, it was an inescapable cloud. Every breath he took he could taste it and he knew the scent was going to cling to his clothes. Explaining that to his parents wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Maybe he should hose himself down before he went home...

"Case in point," said Castiel, breaking him out of his thoughts. The redhead then pushed off from the table with this smug glassy-eyed grin and sauntered away.

Kentin looked after him, studying the swagger in his gait, the minute bounce of a wallet's chain against his jeans, the wrinkles in the back of whatever band shirt he was wearing.

He turned away. The guy was a jerk and he had no idea why he talked to him and he was just going to keep out of his way and hope he didn't do it again.

_ო_

The next time Kentin talked to Castiel, he didn't really mean to. Coincidentally, it was at another party. He wasn't invited to this one, he didn't even know whose house it was, he just went because Alexy didn't want to go alone.

The blue-haired teen was piggybacking on Kentin literally, arms looped around his neck and legs crossed around his waist. "I tried to get Armin to come but you know him. He's still parked in front of the screen, playing another one of those dumb games. I don't know why he can't just pause it for one hour. All he does is fight glowing things with tentacles, it's nothing special."

"I'd almost rather be doing that myself," Kentin muttered, eyeing the surrounding throngs of people. Some of them were drinking. Some of them were dancing. Some of them were making out. All of them looked stupid. "I hardly know anyone here. "

"Then talk to someone! Meet new people, that's how you make friends to begin with. I do it all the time." Alexy nudged the back of his head with his chin.

"I'm going to look like an idiot trying to talk to someone with you hanging on my back like a spider monkey," Kentin protested in exasperation.

"No you won't, Ken. I can actually help you like this, I'm better at talking to people than you are. No offense, I'm just more sociable by nature."

"No you're not! And don't call me Ken!"

"Yes I— Hey! Jade's here! Ken, put me down! Put me down!" Alexy writhed around like a worm on cocaine and nearly knocked Kentin over.

"Alright," Kentin gasped, teeth clenched as he dropped him. "You don't have to break me!"

"Sorry," squeaked Alexy. He was already ducking off and zipping through people to get to Jade. Kentin supposed he could've followed along, but refrained. Those two were probably just going to flirt and make weird lovey-dovey faces at each other and he didn't want to see that. Instead, he found himself gravitating toward the kitchen. He wasn't the biggest fan of alcohol, truth be told.

His first experience with the stuff was an unpleasant shot of too strong whiskey at his father's request and he'd had minimal intake since then. But he was already here and the counter was lined with booze-filled plastic cups. He might as well try to loosen up a little.

He tipped the rim of a cup to his mouth, eyeing the clear liquid and wondering what exactly it was. It smelled like grape-flavored kid's cough medicine. He sipped it and almost gagged. It tasted like what he imagined grape-flavored motor oil tasted like. Nonetheless, he took another sip. Let the scent of medication clog his nostrils. Let the tang of exhaust burn the back of his throat. Let it sizzle to his stomach like lava.

It didn't take him that long to finish the cup. Or the next cup he grabbed. Or the cup that a perky girl he didn't know put into his hands. By the sixth cup, he revoked hating the taste. In fact, he loved it. He would marry it if he could, but he was pretty sure he couldn't. Tastes couldn't sign marriage contracts after all...Marriages did have contracts, didn't they? He'd never been married, so he didn't know for sure.

...

How'd he get into the basement?

Said basement was stifling and steamy with dancing bodies. They cavorted and spun past Kentin in splices, pitch black for one moment and fluorescent cyan the next, courtesy of the strobe light. The beat of the music from an unseen stereo pounded between his temples and thrummed through his blood vessels. At one point he caught a flashing glimpse of Lynn, and that must've been when he immersed himself in the swaying crowd. But all the motion, his own, everyone else's; it just blurred together. Dizzying.

He felt imprecise, floaty, not quite himself. But edging out of the masses turned out to be problematic; he ended up knocking somebody else backwards.

"I'm sorry," he warbled to whatever faceless partygoer it was, words sloppy and syllables mushed together, like his tongue was an obstacle. But it wasn't his tongue, no, he knew that much even as he whisked around in an attempt to apologize somewhat properly. His head gyrated faster than his steps did and Kentin ungraciously greeted the floor with his face.

"Looks like someone doesn't know their limits." A scoff.

Kentin knew that voice, he did, he knew he did, but he couldn't discern it over the music. The music and the reek of musty bananas. That's what the stiff, curly carpet smelled like, really musty bananas. Gross. Whoever owned this carpet needed to give it a good wa—

All of a sudden his throat was on fire and he was coughing up the syrupy, vile constituents of his gut. He jerked himself up to his knees as he sputtered, dazzling dots decorating his vision. He tried to hold it in but ceased success and vomited a second time. It made a slick plop as it joined the previous stew, thankfully close to inaudible. A slug of leftovers dribbled from the corner of his lips and the revolting piquancy scalded the inside of his mouth. He was already hacking on it when the faceless he'd knocked into hauled him to his feet.

"Alright, let's get you out of here before you make it even worse." The hands on his shoulders started steering him toward the stairs.

Said hands didn't belong to any faceless stranger either, Kentin discovered with a jolt. They belonged to Castiel. Discomfort stirred under his skin and lifted the hairs on his arms. He wanted to argue, maybe, pull out of Castiel's grasp at the least. But both might result in pissing him off and truth be told, Kentin wasn't sure he could take him in a fight if it actually came to that. Besides, his stomach was wiggling around inside him and his coordination had hopped on a paper airplane and sailed out the window. He kind of appreciated the support.

Even so,

"Y'know, I think I'm okay. I'm not gonna throw up again."

The corner of Castiel's mouth twitched wryly. "Sure you're not."

Sure enough, when the redhead parked him in front of the toilet (which had a very weirdly beautiful seat; clear with ivory seashells inside). Everything left inside Kentin violently vacated the premises.

_ო_

Kentin needed to stop going to parties. He wasn't a fan. They were just too much. Too many people to keep track of, too many places to get lost in, too many potential accidents waiting to happen. It's not that he was shy because he wasn't anymore, and it's not that he was a no-nonsense stick in the mud, he never was and never would be, but there were limits to everything.

He just needed to stay home. Again, he didn't even know whose house this was. He was just here because...Because...Well, why the heck was he here? Alexy wasn't. Lynn was, but she was with her other friend, Viktor, and Ken hadn't talked to her much tonight. He was about to go over and talk to her, when a furious roar worthy of a saber-toothed tiger echoed in from the living room.

"You better back the hell off! I'll mess you up!"

Oh man, Kentin knew that voice. He put down the cup and jogged to the living room in time to see Kim grab some tattooed blonde dude by the collar and throttle him. Violette stood behind her, face drained of color and hands fasted together tightly in front of her.

"I didn't know she wasn't single," dazedly exclaimed the guy in Kim's grasp.

"That doesn't matter! You still can't just go around and grab on other people's butts, you fucking creep!" She threw him backwards, lime eyes aflame as she drove a livid kick to his groin. Kentin winced just bearing witness. He didn't know Kim that well, but he did know that she was generally placid until someone messed with Violette. He heard the last time someone had made the mistake of doing so, she put them in the hospital.

As far as rumors went, this was one Kentin found plausible.

"I'm getting out of here, army boy. You should too."

Kentin internally jumped, externally went rigid. He hadn't even noticed Castiel approach. Startled though he was, the booze had him loosened up and less restrained. "Don't call me that. And why would I leave? Things are just getting good."

Kim punctuated his statement by smashing her fist to the guy's nose, the crunch of cartilage mincing his cry.

"Someone's feeling a little bolder, eh?" Castiel simpered, smug as a snake. "I'm bailing because that guy she's beating on lives here. The second she backs off, he's gonna call the cops if someone hasn't already. Hell if I'm gonna be here when they show up." With that said, Castiel shuffled back and turned on his heel, headed toward the door.

Kentin spared once last glance to Kim roundhouse kicking the apparent party-thrower's face to the floor before he followed him out.

"Smart man," Castiel breathed, words a compliment but expression an insult.

Kentin shrugged and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I'm lit. I'd get in trouble for it if what you said is true."

"'If?' You think I'm a liar?" Castiel sounded amused and Kentin could feel his eyes burning into his face, silently scorching like smoking coals.

"No. Not at all." He'd kick at the sidewalk if he didn't think he'd fall over. He wanted to stop following the redhead, but given that they lived in the same direction, he couldn't really turn around.

"Goddamn. Relax, will you? I'm not going to bite your face off."

Kentin stopped without realizing he stopped and almost pitched to the concrete. His head snapped up abruptly, alcohol-laden brain buzzing with wasps and thoughtless question. His heart put on roller skates and turned his ribcage into a rink. "W-What?"

"I know you're scared of me. I don't know why, but I've been taking it as a compliment." Castiel cracked a wolf's grin and brought a cigarette to his lips. "But I'm gonna be the nice guy here and let you know you don't have to be, okay? Just stay on my good side and we won't have any problems."

"Your good side?" Kentin repeated, too dumbfounded to backtrack and deny the embarrassing accusation.

"Yup. It's pretty simple; don't start shit with me and I won't start shit with you." He slipped a lighter out of his pocket and treated the cigarette to a tiny orange flame, eyes reflecting it so that it almost looked like an additional, catlike pupil.

"Oh," was the lame response that dropped out of Kentin's mouth before he could stop it. He swayed on his feet, feeling as though a balloon just popped inside him and splattered the walls of his organs with its rubber shreds. Boulders and feathers danced in his head, twirling each other around. He thought they were doing ballet. He couldn't be certain, as he wasn't an expert on dancing.

He wasn't an expert on being drunk either, but he knew he needed to lie down.

"Pfft, you really are lit." Castiel gave a dry chuckle and crammed the lighter back into his pocket.

_ო_

When Kentin was torn from his doze on the couch by the clatter of aluminum against concrete and the rustle of spilling garbage, he did indeed expect to find an animal. As he got up and crept out to the back porch (armed with a broom) he expected to find a raccoon or an alley cat. But what he did find was a dog. A ginormous brown and black shepherd of some kind, hulking over his fallen trashcan.

For a split-second, Kentin was so startled he mistook it for a bear. But then it let out a great big "woof" and rolled over in the puddle of miscellaneous rubbish.

Kentin sighed in frustration and dropped the broom. "Great. Now I have to clean that." He gave the dog an emerald glare.

It kept rolling around, spreading the mess further.

Kentin trotted down the porch steps and waved the broom over the canine, trying to shoo it away.

It simply stopped rolling, jaws open, teeth glistening with saliva and salmon-pink tongue lolling out of the corner of its mouth. Kentin was suddenly reminded how large it was and warily took a few steps back. His fingers tightened around the broomstick.

The dog then rolled over onto its paws and trotted up to him, its ears perked. It pushed its broad snout into Kentin's stomach and wove around him, snuffling curiously. Kentin gulped. His spine went ramrod, muscles inelastic.

The canine stopped circling and gave a sneeze. Tail wagging, he licked Kentin's hand.

Kentin breathed a laugh and patted his head. This wasn't some monster werewolf like he'd been worried about. He took a good look at him and noted that he didn't have a collar. Maybe he was a stray?

Kentin didn't know what to do with the dog, but he did know that he needed to get the garbage cleaned up. Good thing he already had the broom. He began sweeping the trash back into the fallen bin, nose wrinkling as he struggled not to inhale the moist stench that emanated from it. Like sour milk puddled on cardboard.

When he was finished he put the lid back on and pushed the bin back to its rightful vertical position against the house.

The dog was still in his yard, sniffing at one of his mom's shrubs. He had to figure out what to do with him. Maybe put up 'Dog Found' posters? People still did that, right? Okay, that was what he was going to do. Simple enough. A few pictures on his phone and construction paper did the trick. Tacking them up on telephone poles was another matter, as he only had so many thumbtacks, but it'd have to do.

If nobody picked up the dog in a few days, he'd just have to buy more. Provided his parents would let the dog stay until then, anyway. But Kentin was fairly certain that wouldn't be a problem. His dad liked big dogs like this one, and his mom thought pretty much anything on four legs was cute. The dog himself seemed pretty content. He followed Kentin around as he put up the posters, trotting this way and that, pausing to smell things or piss.

He only had two tacks left when he found the dog's owner. Or rather, the dog's owner found him.

Kentin was twelve blocks from home with two posters left tucked under his arm and the dog still prancing along beside him when a sharp whistle pierced the white noise of the background. Kentin's head snapped up just as the dog went loping toward the familiar redhead. He wasn't that much farther down the street, just about halfway, and the canine reared on his hind legs to greet him. He braced his huge paws against Castiel's torso and stretched his boxy neck to lick his chin, tail happily propelling from side to side.

"You're just loving me up 'cause you know you're in trouble," Castiel muttered, pushing the dog down and gently rapping him on the nose. Kentin suddenly felt kind of awkward. He wanted to turn around and hightail it, but that would probably look bad. At any rate it'd give off the impression he was still scared of Castiel, which he totally and completely was _not_. He'd also just put up a bunch of posters for no reason, which made him feel even more awkward and now—

"So it was you who stole my dog?" accused a voice like too many cigarettes and not enough sleep as the owner strode to a stop just a threatening meter away.

Well crap. Castiel had taken the initiative first.

"No!" Kentin declared, two posters flittering down to the sidewalk as he threw his hands up in defense. "I found him! Well actually he found my garbage, but I swear I didn't—"

"Shut up. Didn't I tell you to relax? I'm fucking with you. I know you didn't steal him, he does this all the time." Castiel indicated the canine with a little wiggle of the leash in his grasp and then crouched, starting to collect Kentin's posters. He faltered down to his knees in the process and Kentin fluttered a blink, instinctively reaching out.

"Are you okay?"

Castiel waved a hand and scoffed at Kentin's outstretched one. "Yeah, just starving. Been looking for Demon since this morning, so I didn't really have time to eat." He stood up again, posters in his grasp and expression somewhat softening. "It's nice that you were putting these up. Most people would've just taken him to the pound or called animal control."

"I like animals," Kentin replied. "I hate seeing them locked up. And, err, I know this isn't exactly food, but...Um. I have this." He took a partially eaten package of chocolate cookies out of his pocket and extended it.

Castiel rose a brow. "How long have those been in your pocket? They probably taste like lint."

"For someone who's hungry enough to be lightheaded you sure are picky," Kentin grumbled.

"Well look who's not cowering anymore." Castiel smirked and took the package from his hands. "You have a point. See you around." With that, he wheeled and started sauntering away.

Kentin could hear the rustle of plastic as he popped a cookie out of the package and couldn't really find it in himself to say he'd only been offering one.

_ო_

He stopped going to parties, right? This one was just an exception because he was actually invited by somebody he knew and something worthwhile was actually being celebrated. Marcese, a friend from his old school who also happened to go to Sweet Amoris, was throwing a party at her aunt's place for her girlfriend, celebrating her new album's release. Her girlfriend used to go to Sweet Amoris too, some chick named Debrah.

Kentin didn't know her that well, but she seemed friendly enough. Everybody seemed to like her, Alexy included. Everybody except Nathaniel, anyway...And Nathaniel's just one of those people who didn't like anybody. Kentin thought so, anyway. Sure the guy was polite, but he never seemed to actually _like_ anybody. But then again, Kentin could be wrong about that. He didn't know Nathaniel that well either, just that he wore this ugly tie similar to the one his own grandfather was buried in.

"Try a jello shot," Marcese chirruped at one point when they were in the same room (her aunt had a relatively spacious home and frankly, Kentin had lost track of her for most of the night.) She slapped one into his hand and Kentin was surprised to see that the jello didn't fly out. Then he realized it was capped.

"Sure." He was already buzzing with the various sips and tastes and cans he'd tried tonight, no harm in adding one more. He uncapped it and tipped it into his mouth, slurping it down. Orange flavor. "Not bad."

"Debrah made them herself," Marcese sighed blissfully, dandelion eyes half-lidded and melting with fondness. She was as lovesick as Kentin had ever seen her. "She's so multitalented."

"That's great." Kentin patted her on the back.

"Isn't it though?" Marcese took him by the hands and languidly spun with him, other people moving out of the way. "I'm getting a tattoo of a butterfly net on my left shoulder. Because she has butterflies on her right one, you see? So when we hug, it'll be like I'm catching her butterflies."

"Whoa...That's romantic," Kentin murmured. He admired things like that. He'd always been a romantic himself. He just learned to keep it hidden, lest he be the target for someone else's disdain.

"I thought so." She chuckled and stopped spinning, swaying slightly on her feet. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No."

"Still carrying a torch for Lynn?"

"Uh..." Kentin paused, brain fumbling over itself for an answer. He still cared about Lynn, yeah, but she didn't make her own feelings that clear. Sometimes it seemed to him that she liked him back, and then other times it seemed like she liked someone else. Not to mention how she acted was just hard to gauge in the first place. At their old school tons of guys liked Lynn and she would act like she liked them back, but apparently she was only being friendly. Hell, half the time she hardly even realized anyone liked her!

There were many things Kentin adored about the girl, but her sharp intellect was not one of them.

"Uh?" Marcese mimicked. "Well I'll have to ask you what that means later, I gotta go find someone." She winked and breezed away, a girl on a mission swallowed up from his sight by the masses of people. Kentin got lost after awhile, really. He just sort of meshed into the crowd and bounced from area to area, brushing other bodies and trying out most of what was offered to his lips. He passed up on anything that resembled a cigarette or medication. A number of things did, most jarring to him a brilliant lemon tablet with a tiny picture of a dolphin on its surface.

At some point he was ushered into the attic. It was less of a chaotic atmosphere up there. Still a lot of people, but they weren't running around putting lampshades on or grinding on each other. Just talking it looked like for the most park, sharing a...Whatever that thing was. There was smoke coming out of it. Kentin didn't recognize most of these people. They must've been from Debrah's neck of the woods.

He did spot Castiel and Lysander however, plopped down at a crooked card table in the back. There also appeared to be booze, so Kentin started making his way over.

"—and I don't even know why I'm here. I should be happy for her, I am happy for her, but this is like...I'm celebrating my own failure."

Kentin stopped as he caught this note of garbled discussion and took a step back as Castiel fixed him with bleary eyes.

"Sorry," Kentin started awkwardly. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, I was just looking for another drink, or something, and I don't really know anyone else here..."

"Sure, take a seat," Castiel slurred, pulled out a porch chair and offering it to Kentin with an offhanded shove. "Nothing to drink for you though. This is reserved for failures." He clumsily snatched the squarish bottle of tepid liquor from the middle of the table and downed a good fourth of it one go. Kentin was pretty impressed.

"You're not a failure," Lysander sighed, watching with a furrowed brow. He appeared to be the most sober person here.

"Yes. Yes I am. I could've went with her. I was supposed to go with her, and then...Goddamn it. That's the worst of it, I don't even know what I did wrong. Dropped before I even got started and I have no fucking clue why. Deb looks good, she's so happy. This entire place is just filled with her groupies. But it's so weird...I shouldn't be here. She's with Marce and that's weird, and then she just...She made it and I didn't, fuck, what did I do wrong? I swear I did everything they told me to do." Castiel took another long swig straight out of the bottle and Kentin simply stared, having no idea as to what he was ranting about.

"I practiced, man. So hard. I really thought that was gonna be it, but they just took her..."

"What are you going on about?" Kentin finally asked, feeling like he was missing something important here.

Castiel gave him a look and blinked a few times, squinting in an attempt to focus. Haha. Who was the lit one now? "Debrah and I were supposed to do the band thing together. Back when we were dating. Not that it's any of your business, but s'not really a secret either. But Steven dropped me out of nowhere and kept her. And now her second album is out and I'm still a jobless failure."

"No, what you are is cut off." Lysander reached across the table and pried the bottle from Castiel's fingers. "You've already had too much. No more."

"You're a killjoy." Castiel glared at him halfheartedly.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm a killjoy, your mother, vanilla like Nat, an asshole. I've heard it all, I'm whatever you want me to be right now." Lysander rolled his eyes and kept a firm grip on the repossessed alcohol.

"I hate you." Castiel simply let his face drop to the tabletop, heaving a despondent sigh as his arms fell to his sides.

"Can I have some of that?" Kentin asked, glancing to Lysander and pointing to the bottle. He needed something to help soak in this oddly intriguing information.

Lysander nodded and passed it over. Kentin took a drink without a second thought and struggled to keep himself from retching. It was like taking a big gulp of drain cleaner; acerbic, acrid, overpowering. An aftertaste like toxins coated his throat as the liquid burned in his stomach.

"I loved her," Castiel mumbled after a moment. Between the words being quiet and cluttered and spoken into the table, Kentin barely caught it.

Lysander got up and shuffled over, gently jostling his shoulder. "Okay, come on. We're leaving now."

Kentin was thinking about leaving too. He was started to get this thick, uncomfortable feeling. It didn't help that his brain was swirling around in an oversized toilet bowl. He idly wondered who flushed.

Castiel muttered something in resignation and pushed himself up to a stand, nearly stumbling before Lysander steadied him.

"We'll see you in school, Kentin." Lysander offered a polite dip of the head.

Kentin nearly said goodbye.

He rather accidentally threw up instead.

"Lightweight," Castiel scoffed.

He sort of felt better. He sort of felt worse too.

Lysander exhaled wearily. "On second thought, why don't you come with us?"

Kentin would've agreed, as he had nothing else to do, but he got sick again.

They took him with them anyway.

_ო_

When Kentin woke up, it was to mammoths stomping around between his temples. The room was unfamiliar and so was the warm, firm but comfortable pillow beneath him. Wait...Was this pillow breathing? This pillow wasn't a pillow. This was someone's shoulder. Kentin yelped out a ragged gasp of horror and scrambled off the couch, toppling onto the floor. The rippling jolt intensified the pain in his head.

Castiel stirred and glowered at him groggily. "You better hope that didn't wake Rosa up. My head hurts too much for me to bother killing you, but hers is just fine."

Kentin barely heard him. He was chilled to the bone, trepidation echoing in ever fiber of his being. "Why are you shirtless? Did we...?! We didn't...!?" His tongue was suddenly as dry and prickly as a dead cactus.

"Of course not," Castiel growled. "Were you dropped on your head at birth or what? I'm shirtless because _you_ puked on my shirt. We're sharing the couch because the space is limited here and Lysander wouldn't let me kick you to the floor."

Oh, right. Fuzzy bits and pieces of the prior night resurfaced in Kentin's aching head. "Right. Um, sorry about that."

"Whatever. Just shut up if you're not going back to sleep. It's too early for this."

"Can I get back on the couch?"

Castiel stared at him like he just dropped a newborn in the sink. "I'm not going to stop you."

Kentin nodded and climbed onto the cushions, seating himself comfortably. He leaned his head back this time, using the back of the couch as a pillow as opposed to Castiel's shoulder.

When Kentin woke up again, however, to sunlight pouring in through the window and agitating his unaccustomed gaze, his head was exactly where it was the first time.

Castiel seemed to be tolerating it, if he was even aware.

_ო_

Okay, so Kentin really, really needed to stop going to parties. He wasn't a party person, he hated hangovers, and he just frankly had better things he could be doing. Like working out, or eating good food, or hanging out with Alexy. Even carving soap sculptures was better than this. At least he knew whose house this was, this Jeremy's place. He was some dude at Kentin's old school that used to make fun of him, and actually went out with Laeti for like a month and a half. A record for that girl, Kentin swore, she normally swapped partners every week.

In all truth, Kentin didn't care for Jeremy and still held held a grudge for being made fun of. But now he was buffer than Jeremy was and he didn't care how girlish it was to do so, he was going to flaunt it (hence why he'd attended without a shirt). Also, his parents — who apparently didn't care about anything illegal happening in their home so long as they could go out and enjoy themselves — had rented a mechanical bull. You didn't skip out on parties that had mechanical bulls, you just didn't.

So here Kentin was, casually leaning back against a doorframe with a petite strawberry blonde standing before him, admiring his physique and trying to pretend she wasn't. Kentin knew her, Magnolia, who also went to his old school. She was surprisingly quiet when she wasn't cheerleading, with warm fawn eyes, a little button nose, and breasts like mangoes.

"I didn't even recognize you at first," she admitted to him almost timidly.

Kentin always felt accomplished when he heard that and smiled just a bit wider. "But I recognized you right away. How have you been?"

He zoned out as she replied. He didn't mean to, but he was baffled to spot a familiar someone off in the background behind her head. What the heck was he doing here?

"Excuse me for a minute," he murmured apologetically and bobbed around her, slinking up to Castiel.

Charcoal eyes flashed to his, glinting and glassy in the dim lighting. "Hey, Ken."

"What ar— Hey! Don't call me that!"

"Why not?" Castiel gave him a humoring grin.

"It's just embarrassing..."

"Your full name is more embarrassing. Sounds like 'can tin,' rearrange that and you've got 'tin can.'"

"What kind of logic is that?" Kentin grunted, praying that he wasn't blushing. The air was so congested in here he'd felt hot before then, so he couldn't tell.

"Buzzed logic, Tin Can."

"Don't!"

"Fine. Ken it is, then."

As much as Kentin disliked it, he would take that over Tin Can. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"I really get around."

"Do you even know anyone here?"

"Lynn."

"Lynn's here?" Kentin brightened.

"She invited me." Castiel snickered and casually folded his arms behind his head.

Kentin felt like smacking him then.

But he felt like hugging him three hours later when he was kneeled before his porcelain throne, vomiting his guts out while Castiel patiently stood by and occasionally patted him on the back.

"Thanks," Kentin rasped when he was purged and somewhat steadier. "This is the second time and I didn't say thanks last time, so thanks again."

"This is the third time, actually," Castiel scoffed. "But I'm not really surprised that you don't remember the second time."

"Ohh...But this is the first time I've been to your house, yeah?" Kentin curiously tilted his head and the slight motion sent the entire room into orbit. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut to block it out.

"Yeah. You gonna stay over? 'Cause I'm too tired to take you home, and you can't even walk straight."

No way in hell was Kentin going to call his parents to come get him. He could've called Alexy, maybe. Or Armin. Both of whom would've made fun of him, the former of whom would've lectured when he was done making fun of him.

"Is it okay if I stay?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have brought you here." Castiel helped him to his feet and started guiding him down the hall. "You can have my room, I'll stay in my parents' room. But if you break anything, I'm going to break you."

"I could just take the couch," Kentin mumbled, pretty much handing over all of his weight as he almost tripped.

"No, the couch belongs to Demon." Castiel didn't have any trouble taking it.

The idea of a couch belonging to a dog was suddenly so outrageously hilarious that Kentin couldn't even handle it and laughed until he was crying.

"You're dumb," Castiel breathed, sounding more entertained than irritated.

He was, and that just made him laugh even harder.

It must've been the alcohol.

_ო_

"Have you started smoking?" Alexy asked, cerise orbs scrutinizing Kentin from head to toe.

"No. Why would you ask that?"

"You smell like cigarettes."

"Oh." Kentin stretched, thoughts roaming elsewhere. "This is Castiel's shirt."

Alexy gaped at him, looking quite akin to a calf that just got tipped by a group of cruel teenagers.

"What? The rest of my stuff is in the laundry."

"You're serious? Why do you have his shirt in the first place?"

"Like you've never borrowed anyone else's clothes before," Kentin huffed. "I didn't have one when I went to his house, so he let me wear it."

"You went to his house..." a cheeky, squiggly grin crossed Alexy's features. "Nice. He's not really _my_ type per se, but he's definitely attractive. And you're getting nowhere with Lynn."

"It was not like that at all!" Kentin protested vehemently, blush all but melting the skin off his face. "He just let me crash there after this party."

"Well, Mr. I-Have-To-Yell, I was just kidding but you're really red and being crazy defensive."

"No I'm not," he insisted, ducking his head.

He didn't like Castiel. At all.

No. No way. There wasn't even anything to like.

...

Right?

_ო_

He didn't know why he kept going to these parties. It wasn't the alcohol, though he inevitably indulged in that just about every time. It wasn't the girls (or the guys for that matter) as he'd already had his sights set...elsewhere. It wasn't for the dope when there was that, there usually was, and he'd never even tried any of it, from the pot to the shrooms. It wasn't for the sake of something to do, as he could think of a number of other things that he could be doing.

Maybe it was because now, finally, he actually looked good enough to get invited, or if not invited, then solicited by proxy. Maybe it was because he liked the newfound acceptance. Maybe there were a lot of reasons. But it definitely, definitely was _not_ because he always saw Castiel at these things.

Speaking of whom, Kentin discovered he wasn't the only one who needed to cut the parties out of his schedule.

"I still can't believe you jumped," Kentin murmured incredulously. Tonight's party was still going strong, but they'd abandoned it in favor of looping back to Castiel's place, just a block over. Kentin didn't really remember why. He could still hear the music from Castiel's porch.

"There was a trampoline there," grumbled Castiel.

"Nowhere near where you jumped off."

"It looked different up there."

"It looked different because you were stoned."

"Do me a favor and don't turn into Lysander," Castiel muttered, glaring tiredly.

It was still enough to get Kentin to shut up.

"I got food inside. You hungry?"

"What kind of food?"

"Thai takeout. Only about a day old."

Kentin nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Alright. Help me up."

"Your knee still hurts?" Kentin studied him, brow furrowing slightly. He was sitting with the aforementioned appendage stretched out in front of him.

Castiel blanked for moment, and then averted his gaze. He hadn't wanted Kentin to catch that undertone. "Not really. S'fine. I'm just lazy."

They say not to back wild animals into corners. Specifically injured ones because they're all the more likely to lash out. By all means, Kentin should've backed off. He poked Castiel in the knee instead. Castiel let go of a yelp and shoved Kentin off the porch steps for all his troubles.

"Fucker!"

Kentin pushed himself up from the grass and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But why don't you let me take a look? I'm not an expert or anything, but military school taught me some of that stuff."

"You're getting too cocky. I should've let you stay scared of me." Castiel leaned back, propping his elbows on the concrete.

"I'm still scared of you," Kentin admitted before he could stop himself, words slipping out like a knife through melted butter. "It's just a different kind of scared. I don't know how to explain it."

Castiel lifted a brow and surveyed him a moment, before glancing away and fishing through his pockets for a cigarette. He mumbled something that Kentin didn't catch and probably wasn't meant to. Kentin got up and stepped over, kneeling before him and tenderly rolling up the leg of his jeans. He carefully probed the swollen joint, half expecting Castiel to smash his face into the porch step. He didn't.

"Can you bend it?"

"Walked back here, didn't I?" He exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Barely." Kentin had taken most of his weight, and anyway, back there he'd still been high as a kite.

"Yeah, I can bend it."

"Without pain?" Kentin was pretty sure Castiel was looking at him. He got that feeling where you know you're being stared at, where your spine inevitably straightens up just a little, your hairs rise on the nape of your neck, and your mouth seems to lose some of its spit.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Didn't hear anything pop or tear when you hit the ground, did you?" Kentin knew Castiel staring at him, staring through him, he could feel the scorch of coals in his skull, and he was doing everything in his power to keep his gaze lowered.

"Nope."

"Well that's good. Um, like I said, I'm really not an expert or anything, but it could be a sprain. You should probably rest it for a couple days, uh, use ice, and maybe—"

"I don't know whether you sound more like my mom or my wife."

All the heat in Kentin's body went right to the cheeks, so everywhere else felt like ice. Dry ice. He gulped and just continued for the sake of saving face. "But if it doesn't get better you should probably go to the hospital—"

Castiel leaned forward and laced his fingers through his hair, tugging back until Kentin faced him. Damn was he close, way too close, their noses were a mere millimeter from touching and Kentin could count his eyelashes if he wanted to, even in the dark like this. Every word he was going to say evaporated on his tongue and left his mouth in a soft gasp of surprise.

"Wife," Castiel said after a second that felt more like a year. Nonchalant but declarative. "You sound more like my wife."

He cupped Kentin's cheek with his opposite hand, calloused thumb brushing over his lips. Kentin's pulse outran a hunting cheetah. Castiel inclined his head slightly and leaned in, cigarette-hot breath caressing Kentin's mouth. Kentin instinctively tilted his head the other way, suddenly steady and ready for this, no matter how spontaneous it was.

Castiel didn't kiss him. He leaned back again, fingers sliding out of Kentin's hair.

"W-What the hell was that?" Kentin spluttered.

"Not what you wanted it to be, apparently." Castiel laughed like a hyena that just killed a gazelle, head tipping back and moonlight glinting off his (fangs) teeth.

Kentin stood up and walked around him. "I'm still eating your Thai takeout."

"Eat it all and I'll massacre you."

"If you can catch me," Kentin growled under his breath.

"I heard that." Castiel gave him a murderous glare and Kentin ducked into the house before he could lose his nerve.

_ო_

When Castiel did kiss Kentin, it wasn't so much of a kiss as it was public harassment.

Kentin was shuffling through the hallway with Alexy, headed toward the courtyard and polishing off another roll of those cookies he never got tired of.

Castiel practically appeared out of nowhere, Lysander in tow. The latter nodded a greeting as Castiel wordlessly cupped the back of Kentin's neck and leaned in, languidly swiping his tongue over his mouth. Kentin was immediately too stunned to do anything, too stunned to breathe, let alone pull away. Castiel released him and sidled back, lips quirked slightly at the corners.

"You had crumbs on your face," he informed, as blasé as though this were the most normal thing in the world. He continued on down the hallway and Lysander followed after him with an audible 'that was inappropriate' and a scolding shake of the head.

Alexy was giving him a _look_.

"No," said Kentin, face still burning.

"He just licked you," Alexy replied pointedly.

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Okaaay," sarcastically trilled Alexy.

"I'm serious." And he was.

But he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

_ო_

Kentin went over to his house without any reason, without any prompting. He didn't know why. He wasn't sure whether to ring the doorbell or knock, so he did both. Castiel answered, looked him over, zeroed in on his face.

"Isn't this a surprise."

"Hey."

"What do you want?"

Kentin exhaled a low breath and shrugged. "Nothing."

Castiel smirked and sidled back from the door. He turned around without closing it and walked away. Kentin supposed this must've been an invitation and crossed the threshold, shutting it behind him. Demon bounded over and gave him a greeting sniff. Kentin smiled and patted him on the head.

Castiel sat on the arm of his couch, hunched forward with his chin in his hand and gaze sharp, almost hawklike as it fixed on Kentin. Unreadable. Or maybe there wasn't anything to be read. Kentin met it, absently shuffling a few steps closer.

"There's something going on at the pavilion tonight," he said, tone twined with hesitance. "Do you wanna go?"

"With you?" Castiel never missed a beat.

"I guess, sure. Yeah. With me," he answered sheepishly.

"Nah." A taunting grin bled through the single syllable.

Kentin tossed a glance at it. "Alright. I guess I'll see if Lynn wants to go then." He knew for a fact that Lynn was hanging out with that friend of hers again, Viktor, but the best way to embrace rejection was to act like it didn't matter; like you could take it or leave it and find replacement if it so suited you.

"Or you could stay here," Castiel muttered neutrally. "I've got the movie channel."

"The one without commercials?" Kentin irresistibly perked up and strenuously hoped it didn't show.

"Yup."

"Popcorn?"

"We could buy some."

"Alright."

Shopping with Castiel was an experience. Somehow Kentin wasn't surprised at all when standing in line to pay, Castiel clapped him on the back and said,

"By the way, 'we' meant you. I don't have any money on me."

Which was annoying in the exhausting kind of way silverware scraping against plates is, but didn't deter Kentin from going back to his house. At least Castiel was courteous enough to throw the bag in the microwave himself.

By the time said bag was half-empty, Kentin felt like kissing him. He felt like licking the salt off his lips without his permission and slipping a tongue between his teeth and sucking the oxygen right out of him and stealing it for himself. But he didn't. He kept his eyes on the television while his buttery fingers spidered their way over to Castiel's cushion.

He didn't glance over when a calloused warmth told him Castiel's hand enveloped his own.

Castiel probably didn't either.

_ო_

"Hey, Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"Your dad looks like somebody ripped right out of a video game."

"Armin said the same thing, he just sounded a lot more excited about it than you."

_ო_

"I thought it was a Smartie," Kentin sputtered as Castiel ushered him into the stranger's shower. "I really thought it was a Smartie!" Man, things were weird right now! He could hear time. It rustled softly between the walls and hummed against his skin as it passed. Before this, he must've never truly touched anything. Now the slightest sensation was purely mesmerizing.

He wanted to rub himself against the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor. He couldn't imagine how damn _good_ it must feel, how divinely plush.

"You're an idiot," Castiel spat distractedly. He jerked the faucet on and Kentin jumped as liquid ice jetted out and needled him right through his clothes. He started to step out, but Castiel pushed him right back into the merciless spray. "Stay under there!"

"Why!? Am I dying!?"

"No, just— Look, calm down." Dynamite seethed in his eyes. He hopped into the tub with Kentin and pressed gentle fingers to the side of his neck, touch lingering on Kentin's skin in electric eels. He then pushed the inside of his wrist to Kentin's forehead, lips tight. "We just gotta cool you down. You're too hot."

Gelid water plastered Kentin's shirt to his back and streamed down his skin in a network of canals. "You're kidding, right? I'm freezing."

"Shut up, you don't know what you are."

"Are you mad at me?" Kentin's heart gave a throb so painful it nearly knocked him over. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it. It looked just like a Smartie."

"I'm not mad, but I'm gonna be pissed if you keep fidgeting around. Stay under there." He took Kentin by the shoulders and nudged him back as directly under the shower head as he could get.

"I'm sorry!" It wasn't just physical feeling that was bizarrely amplified right now, it was feeling in general. He felt as guilty and devastated as though he'd accidentally shot Castiel's dog. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, don't get all worked up about it. Just do what I tell you, okay?"

"I'm stupid. I should've known it wasn't a Smartie."

"Yeah, you should've. You're a fucking idiot, which is why I'm telling you to listen to me. I'm gonna go get some ice. Don't leave. If you leave, I'll kick your ass." Despite the threat, he looked a hell of a lot more concerned than irritated. Anxious.

"Ice? You need ice?" Kentin paled at the thought.

"...No, I guess not...Shit, Ken, I've never done this before." Castiel sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. It looked nice when it was misted, pretty. He would've hated to hear that. Kentin reached out and touched it, running his fingertips down the damp curtain that flattened to the nape of his neck.

Castiel allowed him, but gave him a hard look. "You're never going to do this again, right?"

Kentin quickly shook his head, cool droplets flying from his face. "Of course not, I didn't even do it on purpose this time!"

"Good."

Kentin wasn't sure how long the cold shower lasted. He could still hear time, but he hadn't been able to grasp how long of a stretch each rustle indicated. All he knew was that the apparently plugged bathtub was overflowing by the time Castiel shut the water off. Though he would've liked to feel a towel against his skin, he didn't dry off and they left after that, tracking water through whoever's house it was. No one cared.

The cool night air was bitter and arctic against Kentin's slick flesh on the walk back, but it was almost enjoyable. It was certainly a sensation to behold, so vivid he didn't just feel it, he saw it. It was yellow and blue and sparkly like wet gemstones.

But it mostly faded by the time they reached Castiel's porch. Time itself was quieter too, the rustling dimmed down to a whispered babble.

"Have you ever done it?" Kentin asked, watching as Castiel unlocked the door.

"Ecstasy? No. Seen too many people on it. You all look fucking stupid, pettin' walls and shit. Dry humping anybody you happen to look at." He opened it and sauntered inside, Kentin following suit.

"It feels kinda nice," Kentin admitted. "Really different."

"So I've heard." Castiel started down the hallway and Kentin followed him like a wayward puppy. He ducked into the bathroom and came out with a thermometer and a towel, ungraciously popping the former in Kentin's mouth and tossing the latter over his head. He ruffled the towel so ardently it made Kentin wince. He didn't stop until the thermometer's warble cut between them.

"Thirty-eight on the dot is fine," Castiel mumbled with a look-over, more to himself than Kentin. He put it away with the towel and shoved some dry clothes into Kentin's grasp.

When dressed, Kentin migrated to the couch, only to find a snoring Demon stretched out along the cushions. He rounded back and shuffled to Castiel's room instead, flopping down on the comforter. When Castiel meandered his way in, cigarette between his lips, he didn't kick Kentin out. He crushed the cigarette out against his nightstand and laid down on his side.

Kentin squirmed a little closer. Castiel grabbed him and yanked him over the rest of the way, angling Kentin into him and trapping him around the waist.

He stopped going to parties after that.

_ო_

"What was military school like?"

"Why do you care?" Kentin asked, bewildered. He wasn't trying to snap, he genuinely had no idea why Castiel would ask.

"It doesn't matter why, you should be happy I'm taking an interest in you."

It took Kentin a second, but only a second. "You're just asking because you've run out of things to talk about, but you don't want to go to class." Kentin didn't really want to go to class either. The blacktop on the courtyard had soaked up the sun's warmth and basking in it was a lot more appealing than sitting in some stifling classroom and listening to Mr. Faraize stutter.

"Again, it doesn't matter why I'm asking, just be happy I'm asking."

"I don't really want to talk about it." Kentin picked at his cuticles, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm glad I went and all because it made me a better person, but it's not something I want to go into detail about."

"There are better things to do than talking anyway." Castiel crashed his lips to Kentin's without so much as a pause, rough fingers snaking through his brunette tresses. His tongue was demanding in Kentin's mouth and Kentin zealously sucked on it. His fingers curled into the jut of Castiel's hip, covetous as the opposite one pressed against the small of his back.

_ო_

Kentin did not like Castiel. At all.

...

Okay, so he did.

If asked why, he (wouldn't admit it) didn't exactly have an answer. The guy just kind of had that intriguing standpoint, the flickering, 'push and pull' tenor. It fascinated him. Better still, Castiel knew it fascinated him. And once the people who fascinated you knew they fascinated you, they took advantage of it. Kentin didn't have that much experience with that, but he was getting there.

So he hung around him, plain and simple.

There was always something to talk about.

And if there wasn't, they didn't talk.

_ო_


End file.
